Punished
by STFUharu
Summary: Hannah whirled on Dean. "Punish him." It is a request Cas had turned down once, and the consequences are too great to turn down again. Spoilers thru 10x23, but scene takes place in 9x22. Full summary inside.


**Takes place during 9x22... With a twist. Bartholomew, Tyrus, and Malachi are dead, leaving Castiel's following the last standing army against Metatron's forces. Castiel believes all of his flock to be loyal to him. But he quickly learns that when they are faced with the truth of Castiel's fading grace and the damning suicide-agents, the loyalties of the angels on Team Cas aren't so unshakable. Dean's killing of Tessa was the final straw. They have to know where Cas is truly loyal: Heaven, or the humans?**

 **Dean must be punished, or Cas will lose his following. An easy choice, except Castiel knows what happens when he makes this one decision. He must alter the future to stop the end of the universe as they know it.**

 **Intended as a one-shot destiel fic. I was gonna give you some juicy pwp but I mean... Angels. And feels. Can't we have both? I say yay. Brace yourself for some dub/noncon and overall graphic nature of this fic. 18+ for srs guys.**

 **Reviews and hate mail make me smile.**

 **Punished.**

Hindsight is twenty-twenty. The true meaning of the phrase had always evaded him. What does the optometrical measurement of human eyesight- a flawed system in itself- have to do with effectively evaluating past events?

Now, though, Castiel believes he understands.

The camcorder displaying Metatron's smug face flicked off. Dean turned to his followers, feeling as well as reading the doubt in their eyes like braille. Hannah crossed her arms, a gesture she'd never use on an indisputable leader. "He's lying," Castiel stated honestly.

Hannah's body language was challenging. "About the grace?"

Well, not that. Exasperated but compelled to be truthful, all Cas could offer was a feeble, "Its complicated."

"So he wasn't lying?" she demands, but the voice may as well have come from every stock-still angel watching at once.

"He was about everything else. He... You believe me, don't you?" His loyal followers fell for Metatron's deceit so quickly. Maybe Dean had been right to say that he didn't trust any one of them.

"I want to believe you but I... We need proof."

"Name it."

Hannah thinks for a moment, then points unambiguously at Dean. "Punish him." The hard faces of the other wary followers corroborated her idea. If one individual can step out of line, what's to keep everyone from reverting back to slaughtering one another as they had before Castiel united them?

Cas's heart stops beating. "What?"

"He murdered Tessa. He broke our rules." She said simple words, but her tone conveyed so much more. You must prove to us that you care more about the angels and getting them home than the humans. This is the final straw, and your last chance to keep your army.

Dean wasn't having an ounce of this crap. "Y'all can all go to hell." He tried to leave, but only found himself in a living wall of angels. Sam tried to come to his brother's aid, but was subdued easily.

"Dean..." whined Cas, whether for cooperation or forgiveness, he didn't know.

Dean's brows cinched up in sheer bravado, gearing up for a three-on-sixty fight to the death without even a spec of fear. Because he knows, _knows,_ in his heart of hearts that Cas wouldn't hurt him. Not cold-blooded and not for some stupid political gain. He stared hard-faced at Cas to give the obvious answer: No.

And that was Cas's answer. No. The angels decided he was no longer worth following and abandoned his cause for the new God. Dean ended up dying and being resurrected by the Mark of Cain as a Demon. He was cured, but never really the same. His relationship with Sam was destroyed, Death itself ended up murdered by the Son of Murder, and an ancient power of unfathomable evil released upon the earth, effectively destroying everything they love and had ever worked towards. Heaven was destroyed, Hell left rent open, and Purgatory an empty shell.

All from a simple word. "No." His refusal to cause Dean pain lost the army that could have and would have destroyed Metatron without Dean becoming a martyr and subsequently a menace. In retrospect, one simple decision to not punish Dean turned out to be a punishment greater than anyone could ever conceive or deserve.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

The witch had cast an attack-dog spell on him so powerful that it actually controlled him- grace and all. Crowley was brutalized, and Cas barreled towards the Winchesters just as their world was destroyed. The spell had worn down just enough that Castiel used his last ounce of his celestial power to thrust himself back in time to that moment.

Angel blade in hand. Dean staring in expectation. The words _punish him_ ringing in the screaming silence. Sam's eyes begging him to give that natural answer. No, Cas, please don't.

Cas knew better.

Cas gripped the angel blade tighter and Dean felt the grip in his chest. "Okay." Cas's voice was gravelly, face hardened against the mutual look of horror crossing the brothers' faces. The wall of angels tightened its grips as the Winchesters struggled for their lives. The First Blade was wrenched away, and Dean felt naked.

"What? Cas are you crazy?! You're gonna kill me for some imagined crime and a bunch of disloyal dicks?" Shouted Dean, his rage flaring under the influence of the Mark.

Cas's lip curled like a snarling wolf. And he's going to prove he's alpha. "I will give Dean a punishment that I believe fits the crime." The angels recoiled at the ferocity of his voice. They may have doubts, but no one is stupid enough to outright challenge Castiel's decisions just yet. "Anyone who disagrees, will meet the same fate as him."

He turned a half-circle, making sure to get eye contact with every one of his flock. They looked down in turn. Even Hannah, if just briefly. The commander turned to the Winchesters, his Pacific eyes holding a cathartic ocean. They were repentant and determined at once. "Keep Sam separate, but do not harm him. Take Dean to the interrogation room. Put the First Blade in an Enochian curse box."

The angels set to work. "Cas! Cas, don't do this" Sam shouted at the top of his lungs. "DEAN! NO! CAS!"

Castiel kept his face steeled as the men were dragged apart, one to a doom he didn't even know. Hannah came to Castiel's side. She could see just how much this hurts him. There is nothing he could do to Dean that would compare to what he's doing to himself. "You're making the right decision," she assures him. "This will keep order. Keep your army."

Castiel said nothing. She went on. "I respect your choice but... Is torture equal to his crimes?"

"Tessa was not one of ours. Not truly. Dean killed an enemy agent. He will keep his life." Castiel left no room for argument. He walked towards the interrogation room, parting the angel sea with his footsteps alone.

* * *

The room was clean and dimly lit. Either this was a different room, or they cleaned up Tessa's body quickly. Dean sat at the simple table, looking for something to pick the lock on the handcuffs chaining him there. He could flip the table and haul it around, but it's annoying and nerve wracking. He felt like an animal in a bear trap: feral, rabid, furious, and staring down imminent death.

He heard voices outside the door. One of which stood out, and all the others fell silent. "Let me pass," it said. "Under no circumstance are any of you to open this door. None whatsoever. Take all emergencies to Sam's notice." Dean heard that perfectly clear, and could tell Cas was near yelling his voice was so sturdy.

The door opened with a creak and slammed shut behind the angel. Dean couldn't read his expression, and that scared him. For a long moment, they held a meaningful staring contest. Castiel locked the door and crossed the room to sit awkwardly in the chair across from Dean.

"... Well?" Dean finally said, cutting the tension. "You got me alone. Gonna have your way with me, or what?"

Cas furrowed his brows in confusion. "If I had my way, neither of us would be in this situation."

Dean huffed in exasperation as Cas clearly didn't get his quip. "Cas, what the hell? You remember what happened the last time you got yourself an angel army. An assload of angels got killed, and we had Dick Roman rolling dirty. Now you really wanna kill the one dude who's had your back after all of that for these fickle dicks?"

"I remember poignantly. I will not kill you, Dean." The way Cas was looking at him did nothing to reassure Dean. If anything, a rare feeling of dread and vulnerability seeped into his bloodstream.

He made his best effort to hide his fear. "Cas... You brilliant bastard. We faking my death? Third time's the charm. Hey, zap me to KeyWest or something." Cas didn't look like there were gonna be babes or boardshorts in his future.

Dean's face hardened at the angel's silence. "So, what? You're gonna torture me? You're not doing a very good job at it. Get it over with." He leaned forward over the table challengingly. Cas wouldn't have the stomach for this. The only times he'd ever hurt Dean was during the apocalypse and when he'd been brainwashed. "Cas... You can't do it. There's no cause. We'll take down Metatron without them. Quit being a power hungry prick."

"You're wrong," Cas bit out suddenly, startling Dean. "Dean, I have seen the consequences of denying this request from the angels. You become a Demon. The universe is ripped to shreds. You and Sam die horrifically."

Dean blinked up at him owlishly, clearly not understanding. "So.. Torturing me makes all these things not happen?" Did Cas know how stupid he sounds or...?

Cas stood from his seat and advanced on Dean, making him tense. Castiel extended two fingers to his forehead as though about to smite him. Dean tried to turn his head away, but couldn't avoid the zap from the angel. Dean screamed as the flood of angelic energy invaded his mind.

"See," commanded Castiel, and Dean did. He saw his own reflection, black eyes staring back. He saw Charlie's mutilated body in a bathtub. He saw Sam crying in terror of his own brother. _Close your eyes, Sammy._ He saw the Darkness. Then nothing.

Cas pulled away, the last dregs of his remaining grace nearly run dry. Dean blinked up at him, trying to grip reality. He just lived a year of agony in a single moment. His eyes panned up vertically at Cas, who stood between Dean's knees. Dean was so stunned, he didn't even snap at him over personal space.

"There is much at stake," summizes Castiel. He felt Dean grip his arm to silently ask him to back up. He did not. Dean was stomach height with Cas, and he felt so vulnerable in this moment. He might as well have been caught with his pants around his ankles and dick in hand. Not so much because of Cas, but because even Cas couldn't control this situation. He spent his whole life defying destiny, and now it's come to bitch slap him for it.

"Cas, please..."

Castiel's heart broke, but his face would not. "I'm sorry, Dean. I have to do this." With predatory coordination, Cas grabbed Dean and manhandled him against the table. The skin on his wrist broke from one cuff while Cas clasped the other to a second latch on the table so Dean's back was to him. Dean was wrong. The table could not be moved; they must have learned their lesson and soldered it to the ground.

His arms were far enough apart that it forced him to bend at the waist. If Dean felt vulnerable before, he's downright naked at this moment. "Whoa, whoa Cas! Let's talk about this! Cas? Cas, don't you fucking dare..." Dean craned his head to watch over his shoulder. Some horrible part of him expected to see him spit into his hand or working his belt, but instead he saw Cas standing there, blade in hand and a sad determination in his eyes.

Not sure which is worse.

"I... I can't watch your face," Cas explained. He wasn't sure he had the juice to heal Dean when he was done inflicting injuries onto him. What other choice did he have? Running wasn't an option; they would be spotted. Losing the army isn't an option. He knew they were listening outside the door, as if proctoring the torture. If he's doing this, Dean will just have to make some sincere noises.

Dean leaned his face into his arm, resting on the table. "Quit staring at my ass and just get it over with," Dean growled.

It was helpful, and it emboldened Cas to take the blade and drag it slowly over Dean's back, blood bubbling through the frayed fabric. Dean grunted in pain, but he took it like a man. Dean had been through far worse. It will take a lot more to get him loud enough to be heard outside the door and validate the torture. "Are you gonna scratch my back, or torture me, you flying pussy?"

Dean cried out at the surprise of Cas's hand in the center of his back slamming his chest against the table so hard he felt the air whoosh out of his lungs. The blade cut clean through his shirt from collar to hem, and a shockingly deep line of flesh with it. Dean hissed and tried to grunt with his bruised ribs. Dean could feel Cas was standing directly behind him, pelvis warm but thankfully not pressing him with anything. Cas wasn't enjoying this, but Dean wasn't proud of the way his back arched from the slice of the blade. Jeez, even when he's torturing someone, he doesn't understand personal space.

Dean couldn't much focus on it as Castiel started carving viciously into his back. He wanted this over with so badly. He wanted to heal Dean, wanted to beg forgiveness, wanted to take his place. So he bombarded the poor, abused ribbons of flesh until Dean bit down on his own arm to keep from screaming.

It only half worked. His fight or flight kicked in and he tried to back up, which only ground his hips into Cas's. With all of the physical pain, weird as it sounds, that gentle warmth was easiest to focus on to keep his mind off the purposeful torment. But hell if he'd let himself have that because his pride doesn't die easily.

Dean landed a kick to Castiel's thigh hard enough to make him stumble back. He was so low on grace, it actually throbbed with pain. It forced Cas to see what he'd done: blood everywhere, both of them breathing heavily, Dean's shirt holding on by the sleeves around his shackled wrists.

This was the man who taught him what free will was for? This was who he rebelled for? Dean looked over his shoulder, a fiery look in his eye. He knew torture, and that was child's play. Alistair would have gotten a good giggle out of that one. Cas tried to look impassive, but Dean saw right through him. "I don't think this is gonna work."

"I'm gonna be sick," Cas said for the second time that day. He scrubbed his face with his hand, but that only got blood on him and made Cas's stomach churn.

"Nothing you do is gonna be enough to torture me, Cas." They spoke lowly so the angels wouldn't hear. "Let's just go. We'll use your future knowledge to change it. They can't be missing you right now. Or then... Whatever." He let out a low moan of pain. His entire back was filleted and he's losing a lot of blood.

A horrible thought occurred to Castiel, and he drew his lips into a grim line. He stood a step away from Dean, staring at his rent flesh and bent posture. "That is not necessarily true," he said, not responding to his captive's request for freedom.

Dean flinched at the foreign feel of a hand gently sliding down his side. The flesh shivered under the feathery touch, and Dean craned his head to send Cas a questioning stare. "Cas? What are you doing?" But Cas wouldn't look up. His brows were furrowed in utter concentration as he carressed down to grab both of Dean's hips.

It all happened so quickly. Cas pushed Dean with his thumbs digging into the small of Dean's back, and _hard_. The table reverbed with the force, and Dean was made into a strange half-pushup position. Was Cas still trying to torture him?! Dean couldn't tell, until he felt strong arms wrap around him, working the ties of his belt and zipper.

Dean was wrong. There is a torture that Cas can inflict on him.

"Cas, no. Cas, seriously, stop! Cas!" He strained against his fetters, squirming desperately as Cas hooked his underwear and began dragging them down.

Cas would never do this. He would have given up his army in a heartbeat if he never had to hear Dean's utter terror. But the consequences of not doing this... They are far too great.

Cas has full control over his vessel's biomechanics. He could direct his blood flow where needed, and his erection pressed into Dean's thigh menacingly. Dean shuddered, knowing damn well that's no angel blade. "Cas... Come on, man..." His voice broke. "This ain't worth it."

Castiel swallowed.

He had considered this in idle curiosity, and then actively desired this since he'd become human but... This was not how he wanted it.

But this is how it has to be. Cas grabbed himself and lined up with the hunter.

There was no escaping, Dean found, as Cas dug his fingers into his hip to hold Dean still. He felt the head push at him, threatening to force past the tight ring of muscle. It felt impossibly huge, and Dean briefly thought that this might actually kill him. What a way to go.

"Oh fuck..." Dean whined, clenching his teeth. He was so distraught, he leaned his head against the table and pretended he wasn't there. This simply isn't happening. Any moment, he will wake up and find Sam asking him about his nightmare.

Cas was fully lined up, and had both hands gripping Dean's hips. Dean braced for what came next.

Nothing.

He couldn't do it. Every muscle in Dean's body remained clenched, braced against a horrible pain that never came. A long moment of just the outer touch, Dean finally looked up.

Castiel had moved to his side and Dean let out a massive sigh of relief. He almost sunk to his knees as the joints buckled. The locks on the handcuffs popped open and Dean immediately redressed himself. Cas had turned away partly out of respect and partly to gather himself back together. His heartbeat, steady even in the worst of fights, shot around in his chest like a caged bird.

He finally mustered the strength to face Dean. Cas started in surprise as Dean whirled around to punch him in the jaw. His hand obviously broke and he cried out, but felt a little better. "You dick," snarled Dean, holding his own hand. "The fuck possessed you to do that?!"

Cas couldn't meet his eyes or his demands. "I'm sorry... I have to do something but we can't... I couldn't..." He looked almost human, the way his face twisted with shame.

Dean was in awful pain and the terror of what almost happened nearly gave him a damn panic attack. From the only person in the world who he considers his friend no less. Dean sat on the table, hunched over with his elbows on his knees.

Cas didn't have the power to heal him, but seeing him like this hurt too much. Especially when it's his fault. "Dean, say yes to me."

Dean stared up at him incredulously. "You had me bent over a table and now you're asking for permission? You were gonna..."

Not even Castiel is that dense. "No, not sexually, Dean. I can't heal you right now. But if we share a vessel, it will heal us both. Like with Gadreel and Sam." He was unflinching at the frankness of his own words, but Dean sure wasn't. "You've lost a lot of blood."

Kind of hard to put any trust in Cas after he just got done slicing Dean up like a pie, and then subsequently going _American Pie_ on him. "Fuck off, Cas, you've done enough. I feel thoroughly punished. I'm not in the mood to be an angel condom."

Cas looked devastated and self loathing. "Dean... Please. I have to fix this." He had those eyes... Like Sam's puppy eyes but blue. "Dean I'm sorry. Let me heal you." He reached out, his hand on Dean's shoulder and looking up pleadingly into his eyes. Dean flinched at the touch.

Cas recoiled his hand, then let it fall awkwardly at his side. "The Winchesters taught me that family comes first," he said so lowly that it almost came out as a growl. "I'm so desperate to stick to that, to save you from that bleak future. I almost forgot what that means... I can't do this to you."

How could he deny that? This is still Cas, after all. Dean let out a heavy sigh, feeling like the monster is gone from the room and all that's left is Cas. "You stopped. I'll live. We put it behind us." He winced at his own poor choice of words. "Fine. Yes, get in here. But don't... Don't go all Gadreel on me. Don't overstay your welcome." He's having a hard time looking at Cas.

"We can share a vessel as equals. The moment you wish for me to be gone, I will be." He'd received his yes from Dean, and a blue light worked out of Jimmy's mouth and into Dean's. Except Jimmy wasn't in that vessel, so without the heavenly host, it simply slipped into a coma. Dean caught the empty meautsuit on reflex and lowered it to the ground.

Dean blinked, feeling a little... Cleaner, but overall not that much different. Cas is allowing him control for now.

He watched in fascination as his wounds gradually reknit themselves back together. Cas had kept his word. Then, suddenly, the room went black and melted into nothing. Warm sconce lighting illuminated rows of books and tasteful decor. Dean stood in a defensive position, ready to fight, but then he realized where he was. It was the bunker library. "Cas?"

"Hello, Dean," said the angel, suddenly at Dean's side.

Dean keened over to lean against a chair. This guy's gonna give him a goddamn heart attack. "Jesus... Cas, I thought you said we weren't zapping outta there."

"Your body is still physically at the base. We are within your mind. The bunker is where you feel safest."

Dean stared at him warily. The swing in emotions was too great for him, leaving him lagging just a minute too slow for everything else. His almost rapist is not only in front of him but within him, and actively trying to comfort Dean from the terror of before.

Talk about a literal mindfuck.

The bar was low, sure, but Dean did feel safer. He sat on the library table, forcing himself to look at Cas no matter how badly he wanted to run away. "So now what?" He sighs warily. "You bring me back from the brink, then throw me bloody to the angels to prove you're still top dog?"

" They will not be so easily fooled. If I am suspected of deception, this will all be for naught."

Dean snorted sardonically. "Great. So either I'm touched by an angel or this shitty future plays out. I knew I shouldn't have gotten out of bed today."

Cas was just as distraught. He felt backed into a corner, his mind working to find some alternative. He could ask Dean to cry out in pain greater than he's feeling, but... Well, we all saw his acting skills. The angels were gullible, but not THAT gullible.

The angel leaned against the table with a solemn exhale. Dean tensed, finding him too close for comfort. He felt the enormous weight of blue eyes on him, and slowly turned towards them. Why was he shaking? God, he feels like a jittery virgin again.

"Dean," intones Cas, breaking the spell. "I will not force you. That is not how I want this. Flinching from my touch is unnecessary." To illustrate his point, he clasped Dean's shoulder and didn't recoil when the taut muscle under it rippled in anxiety. Dean breathed slowly, willing himself to relax under it.

It isn't Cas's fault, he had to tell himself.

"Cas... We're good, okay? You don't have to prove anything."

Castiel's face didn't change, and his hand didn't move away. That smouldering look rained down on Dean like fire. Cas watched his Adam's apple bob nervously. "Dean... There is an alternative."

He didn't elaborate. Dean waited, and still Cas remained silent and unblinking. "Yeah, sure. You got a plan that doesn't involve makin' me an altar boy, I'm all ears."

Cas swallowed and dropped his gaze. "The encounter doesn't have to be forced."

Dean was nonplussed. Uh, yeah, rape does generally involve a little force. But the look in Cas's eyes was anything but forceful. Finally it clicked. "Are you saying...?"

"The angels do not understand humanity. They would not understand the difference between a moan of pain and a moan of pleasure."

Dean choked on his own breath. For a dude so nervous at the cat-house he struck out with a prostitute, he sure was straightforward. It's like he'd taken a communication x-lax, and his mouth proceeded to spew the verbal dysentery of a man propositioned. "I- wha, you? Me? Like... You and me."

"That is the basic premise, yes."

Dean floundered. "You're serious." One look at Cas's face: yes, he's serious. He didn't have that cold, stone-faced expression when he tried to torture Dean. His expression was heated, eyes piercing through him. "... And if I refuse?"

Cas hung his head and let his arm fall awkwardly from Dean's shoulder. "Then we will face the consequences." He meant it. He will not force this on Dean. "It is entirely your decision."

The voice of John Winchester rung in Dean's ear. _My son goin' gay for some angel. Where did I go wrong? You gonna let him bend you over again, boy?_ Dean swallowed and tried for a nonchalant answer. "Nah, man... I don't swing that way." It wasn't serious enough to be an outright no.

Cas's first thought was to remind Dean that he is actually genderless and it is only his vessel that is male, but he suspected that would only sew more seeds of discontent. Instead, an idea occurred to him. "What about towards yourself?" Dean stared at him in open confusion. "Just... Allow me control." As though he couldn't take it.

Dean didn't understand, but within his own mind relaxed and felt his world moving around him as though someone else was pulling the strings.

They were back in the interrogation room. And by they, it's really just Dean and the vegetable of Jimmy' meatsuit. He feels like himself... Until he tries to move. Nothing happens as he wills it, just sitting in the simple metal chair.

Of its own volition, his hand lifted. Whoa what the fuck?! He'd been possessed by the khan worm, but this was different. Lucid. Like living in sleep paralysis. He could only watch in absent fascination as his hand touched his own neck, rough fingers running gently over the stubble. It felt like someone else and like himself at the same time.

The hand slipped down his own chest, blunt nails dragging ticklishly over the bare skin, then a little rougher over each nipple. Dean found he had his own voice as a little sound of pleasure pulled from his throat.

The hand went from ticklish to firm as the phantom limb pressed down the flat of his stomach and slipped under the waistband of his boxers. Dean's head lolled back and he hissed as flames of heat licked up his hips.

His hand moved tantalizingly slow even... Nervous? It was the only indication that this is Cas behind the wheel here. The fingers hesitated, gently brushing the hairs all around the base.

The beginnings of his erection were jolted to life as his hand wrapped around his own member. He couldn't help shutting his eyes and groaning at the powerful heat pooling in his stomach. Oh fuck, this is painfully slow.

He gripped the chair until his knuckles whitened. It felt like someone else, but the muscle memory had his wrist tilted at exactly the right angle, gripping just hard enough to not hurt. But the strokes were slow, so slow, and Dean panted in frustration. He tried to will it faster, but it simply remained steady, painfully slow.

"Cas..."

His hand slipped lower to the base, and then to Dean's surprise, actually curled around to cup himself- an action that normally wouldn't do much for him when it's just, you know, _him_. But like this, oh God.

The fingers dragged their nails gingerly across that impossibly soft bald spot on the perineal side of his sack. Ohholyshit- How did Cas know how to...? Fucker must have been rummaging around in his head. Dean let out a throaty moan that was amplified by the acoustics of the little room. He thought he heard murmurs outside but he didn't give a fuck because those fingers spun little circles one direction then the other at the hypersensitive, tightening flesh.

So much for nervous. Cas has to know what this is doing to him. Dean shuddered as his hand squeezed all it could grab, then moved back to the shaft. It was dexterous as Cas dragged his thumb up the dorsal underside and roughly pressed the slick head. There simply was no helping the heady wimper that wrenched free of Dean's throat.

Is he waiting for Dean to beg for it?

Dean tried to use his "free" hand, but found it was stuck. The cheeky bastard. The hand wrapped around his member clenched a little harder, just enough to crack him with a fire-whip and then revert back to that teasing slow burn.

Sweat dribbled down his forehead and chest. He could feel himself edging towards the finish line, but he would forever be stuck in a painful limbo at this pace. Looks like he's gonna be tortured after all.

He gave in. "Cas... You're killing me."

The hand flew away from him as though it had been burned. Dean hissed at the sudden lack of contact. "No, not literally!" Yep, definitely Cas. Dean couldn't see through the haze of lust, but he saw and felt his own hand move back into the constricting tent of his pants. It gripped again, considering.

It seemed to click what Dean was trying to say.

The pace picked up. It was sudden and Dean's hips lifted into the tantric torment. "Holy shit, Cas..." He moaned lowly. He couldn't catch his breath because he was tumbling towards the edge-

The hand slowed again, and it felt like there was a traffic jam somewhere deep within him. God he was so close... But that's just it. Cas needs him to be loud so the dumbasses are duped into thinking that Cas is some ruthless Mofo worthy of their loyalty. Cas is edging him to the brink and bringing him back, each time more powerful than the last.

"That's it!" He barks. "You're 86'd" Within his mind, he lays down the law and wills the angel out of him. A blue light writhed free and reanimated the empty body on the floor. Cas looked up from the dank concrete to Dean in fear and confusion. What did he do wrong?

Dean's eyes were dilated with lust until only a sliver of green showed. He advanced Cas and roughly pressed his lips against his. They were softer than he expected. It seemed like the angel didn't know how to respond.

Until he did.

He slipped his hand into Dean's hair and changed the angle of their faces as he kissed back with a tender fire that surprised them both. Whatever fire Cas brought, Dean dumped gasoline on. Dean hooked his fingers behind the angel's jaw and pulled him even closer. His tongue brushed his lower lip, and Cas conceded. Dean's tongue invaded him, grappling for dominance that lit the both of them on fire.

By the time they had broken apart for air, Dean finally realized that he knelt between Cas's thighs and the only thing holding Cas up was one shaking elbow. But before he could go asking what he's doing, or point out that he isn't gay, Cas pressed a gentle, wet kiss to his lips that put him in a haze.

The kiss deepened then, Dean thought Cas missed and got the corner of his mouth. He tried to adjust, but Cas continued laterally, hand fisting Dean's hair to hold him still. He traced heated, suckling kisses on his jaw and jugular. Dean moaned as Cas bit down a bit too hard at the junction of neck and shoulder and drew apologetic kisses up the stubbly side of his neck. Cas's tongue drew a wet heart under Dean's earlobe.

"Get back on the table," he commanded in that gravelly whisper.

A shot of cold fear doused the fire in Dean's belly. Castiel amended gently, " _Sit_ on the table." The hot breath in his ear refanned the furnace.

The small change in semantics made a world of difference. Dean leaned in for another kiss, pulling Cas along by the face as they stood and backed him to the table all without breaking apart.

It's so easy to forget that Cas isn't a virgin anymore. But Dean got a serious reminder as the seraph gripped both of his hips and lifted him onto the table. He was tucked in between Dean's thighs so closely that his belly created a delicious friction on Dean's painfully hard erection.

His grace had been marginally replenished while possessing Dean. He could have just mojo'd the clothes out of the equation, but the goal here was push Dean as far as possible. It is torture, after all. Cas didn't break the kiss as he curled his thumbs in the waistband of Dean's jeans. Dean lifted his hips and whimpered with need as Cas slid the clothes down his legs and pulled off socks and shoes, all much too calculated for Dean's liking.

"I should kick you," he grunts, eyes fluttering shut.

"That would be counter-productive."

If he wants productive, Castiel's open-mouthed kisses up the inside of Dean's thighs were plenty doing the trick. Dean shivered, leaning back on his palms. He was the only one in his meatsuit, but it felt like Cas was still in control.

"Dean..." Cas stopped at the junction of the hunter's hip, staring vertically with questioning eyes.

Dean glanced down, finally seeing the flushed look of sheer desire in his angel's face. He wanted permission. Arousal thundered through him. The sheer anticipation almost had him slipping again like some 14-year-old. "Cas... I'm bout to get real counter-productive if you stop."

It took Cas a moment, brows furrowed in confusion, before it clicked what Dean meant. It was a yes. Dean was transfixed as Cas wetted his lips and experimentally licked the head. Dean's head rolled back and he let out a moan at the magmatic rush.

His hips jerked as Cas pulled him into his mouth. There's no helping the loud moan that tore from his throat. It's so hot and wet and holy shit, Cas swallowed a little too make his tongue press hard against the roof of his mouth. He hadn't even moved, and Dean's holding on for dear life.

So when Cas lifted his head and eased back down, Dean let out a guttural groan. Cas almost stopped, the sound could so easily have been pained. But he figured he'd get a kick to the head. Cas chuckled at the thought, and the vibrations of it shot up Dean's length so hard it made a full-body shake. "Oh fuck," Dean shuddered. He laced his fingers through Cas's hair and twisted them into knots.

It's Cas's turn to moan, and the bass whipped through them both. He picked up the pace, his tongue swirling around the head, teeth gently scraping the underside with each long suck. There was a salty tang that surprisingly made this even more enjoyable and Cas purposefully swallowed when he took as much of Dean in as he could.

Dean is only human. "Cas... I'm not gonna last if you-" he was cut off by his own heady moan as Cas brought his hand up to cup him, fingers grazing that soft spot again. Oh holy crap!

Cas felt the hot flesh in his mouth somehow become even more rigid, and slowly slid himself up and off. Dean gasped for air like he'd been underwater this whole time. His balls hurt from how tight they were, aching for release. Cas's fingers still working circles didn't help on that front.

All prior hesitation had disappeared. This is Cas, the angel who rebelled against Heaven for him; who stopped the apocalypse with him; who kept at bay in Purgatory to lure the leviathans away; who took down Dick Roman with him. His angel, his friend, his safety net. Adding lover to that long list doesn't seem like such a big jump anymore.

"Get back," Dean growled, coercing his way off the table. He had Cas so caught off guard that Dean could push him all the way back up against the wall. Their bodies flush, writhing against one another to create a friction that left Castiel fully frustrated with the layers of clothes on his body.

Dean couldn't agree more.

He tugged insistently at the dirty trenchcoat and that button-up and suit and- god, who even wears this much clothing?! He stole the angel blade from Cas's sleeve while he was distracted and sliced the damn things open. Cas had a thrill of fear and arousal at the man bearing the Mark stealing his weapon. It left the shallowest of scratches, tiny bits of blue-lit blood bubbling up.

Dean stooped to lick them off and the flesh shivered under his super-heated tongue. April had been his first time, but she never did anything like this to him. It was a rather straightforward affair. But the feeling Dean is inflicting on him with his skilled mouth... It's metaphysical. He could feel every electrical impulse bombarding his nervous system. Cas let out a whimper that swiftly morphed into a keening moan as Dean bit down roughly on his nipple.

There was a banging on the door as someone tried the handle. "Commander!" Cried out one of Castiel's flock.

"I said under no- nnncircumstance! Are you to-! Come in!" He snarled through his involuntary grunts of pleasure. The banging on the door stopped, a confused silence on the other side. A mischievous glimmer sparked in Dean's eyes and he suckled on Cas's Adam's apple. It took everything, everything to keep himself quiet. That battle was lost as Dean slipped his hand under the elastic of his underwear.

"Are you hurt? Commander!" Well, they seem loyal enough for now. Too loyal for their purposes.

Dean snickered to himself and Cas looked vexed. "I've got this." Dean squeezed his hand around Castiel's cock and roughly thumbed the head. See how he likes it for a change. Cas ground his teeth and caged back a moan as Dean started on long strokes.

As an act of mercy, Dean pressed a heated kiss to the angel's lips and swallowed the moan that threatened to erupt free and have the whole damn Garrison busting down the door. Dean tasted himself and Cas got the metallic tang of his own blood, making them both groan. Dean pulled back just a hair to speak against Cas's lips. "I'm the one who's supposed to be noisy, not you."

Cas whimpered in frustration. "You are enjoying this too much,"he grumbled.

Dean flashed him a winning grin and pushed the slacks and boxers clinging to Cas's narrow hips to the ground. He mercilessly grabbed Castiel's straining length and erupted into a feverish pace. No slow build-up, just full intent on making the angel melt in his hand.

It's working. Cas's normally gravely face twisted in anguish and surprise, mouth gaping but unable to pull any air into his lungs. He tried to hunch on reflex, but it only left him with his face in Dean's chest. He bit down on Dean's pec to keep from crying out again, his nails digging into Dean's back.

Good thing Dean is encouraged to be loud. God, between the sounds Cas is making and the nails in his skin and the lips on his chest and the fact he'd teetered on the edge of completion twice, Dean was desperate.

Cas gripped his wrist to still him, his blue eyes blown wide as he stared up at Dean's. Sheer, unfettered, unadulterated desire so strong Dean felt his throat run dry. Suddenly, the angel lunged. A fierce kiss, all teeth and tongue, had Dean on his heels. Cas had him distracted thehe switched up the angle and sucked Dean's lower lip like a pro. They were back to the table and Cas was manhandling Dean by the thighs, pushing him up and climbing on top of him.

Dean was breathless as Cas shamelessly let all of his weight bear down on the hunter, their hips grinding together like flint and stone making sparks.

Cas broke the kiss with a breathy plea. "Dean," he more asks than states. He had a finger to Dean's mouth. It triggered his reflex to shut up and look around for danger, but Cas wasn't listening for anything. No, the fingers were the question. He pressed one to Dean's teeth, and he understood.

He wanted Dean to suck them.

There's really only one reason he would ask for that. Dean's eyes widened and he hesitated. His face was flushed with arousal, but at that thought he was practically scarlet. "Cas..."

"I am asking you to trust me," said Cas gently. The emphasis, again, was that Cas would neither force nor hurt him.

Dean's green eyes darkened, weighing his options. His mouth opened, and Cas slipped two in slowly. To his surprise, Dean actually swirled his tongue around and between them, eliciting a whip of arousal to tingle down Cas's spine. Maybe he could ask Dean to...

No, he might start shouting in Enochian. Focus, Cas.

He slowly pulled them free, never breaking eye contact with Dean all the while. The feel of sweat-slicked bodies grinding mixed with Dean's anxiety and anticipation to make a cocktail of arousal. Cas stood at the end of the table, kissing everywhere but where Dean needed it most.

Castiel had this look of intense focus as he gently pressed one finger at Dean's entrance, waiting to make sure that there were no protests or surprises. When Dean leaned his head back, Cas gently pushed in. The muscles contacted and Cas gave Dean a long stroke with his free hand. He moaned, fisting his own hair.

It was uncomfortable, and in all honesty, he'd like to go back to what they were doing. But Cas asked for trust, and Dean's trying to give it to him. He doesn't want Cas thinking he's done something wrong, or worse- that Dean's trust had been lost from the earlier torture.

The muscles relaxed a little, and Cas added a little more each time they did. He could not even imagine the agony this would have caused Dean had he gone through with his... Initial idea. Cas hit his knuckle, and that's when he started pumping slowly in and out.

He knows humanity better than they know themselves. He watched the first amphibian walk out of the water, and he was there in Chauvet Cave, France when man picked up the ashes of dead fires and painted the walls. He healed tumors and baby colic and any disease imaginable. So to say he understands human anatomy is an understatement.

Those fingers weren't all that skilled, but Cas knew what he was looking for. Dean's entire body seized and he let out an embarrassingly loud moan that took even him by surprise. Whoa what the hell was that?! Cas added another finger and Dean's spine arched like it was trying to contort into a spiral. Colorful curses and praises of Cas's name littered the air.

Castiel picked up the pace, scissoring the spot between his fingers and Dean was seeing stars. Hell, he forgot his own name. So this is what the gay guys got out of this. "Cas... I-" he was cut off by an uproarious groan as Cas drew little hearts on his prostate. Any pain from before was long forgotten as he edged towards the precipice for the third time.

When Cas pulled his fingers free, Dean snarled infury. "God damnit, Cas, finish what you started," he moaned. His hips jerked as Cas grabbed hold of Dean's length to tide him over. With a little angelic energy, a thick sheen of lubricant appeared in Castiel's free palm. He slicked himself and positioned at Dean's entrance hesitantly.

Dean lifted his head to shoot him a deadly stare. Cas thought to back up, but Dean dug his heel into the small of Cas's back. The angel had to bite his lip bloody to keep from crying out as he pushed a few inches in, letting Dean's body adjust to his size.

Dean hissed in genuine pain, chest heaving as he tried to just breathe through it. He now gets that that pain precedes pleasure. He'll put up with this if it means...

Cas bottomed out and the both of them remained still, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room. It took all of Cas's willpower to not thrust him into oblivion. After a painstaking minute, Dean finally lifted his hips into Cas's.

That willpower broke. Cas pulled all the way out, reangeled, and slid back in so he dragged along that spot inside his partner. Dean just about freaked. His fingers twisted in his hair, and he thought absently that he might scream himself hoarse.

All intent on slowly building up torture on Dean was gone. Cas was lost in the sensation, the powerful force of humanity howling through him with ululant ferocity. Cas's hands gripped Dean's thighs for support so tightly that violet bruises bloomed across the abused flesh. Somehow, it only drove Dean crazier.

"Cas, I'm gonna-" Dean shuddered as the pace changed to a Barry White stroke style, then kicked back up. Oh fuck!

"Do it," Cas commanded, changing the angle again so he thrusted directly into that knob of nerves. Dean screamed and then went completely silent at the intense, untried pleasure thundered through him. His orgasm ripped him limb from limb. Cas took sensual, long strides behind him and followed. Dean felt a heat altogether different from the friction filling him.

Green eyes finally opened as Dean struggled for a lungful of air. Holy crap...

Both shivered as Castiel pulled out. The angel cleared his throat awkwardly and went about gathering his clothes, leaving Dean splayed out like a used prostitute. He righted himself, and cleaned off as much grime as his dwindling grace allotted for.

He knew what came next. Dean's self-questioning. A shattered bravado, a questioning sexuality, and feelings he didn't understand. Cas knew his presence would only hinder rather than help in working through this aftermath.

So Castiel left, his face gravely and eyes hard. He opened the door, and was face to face with several angels looking on in astonished respect. He had tortured not just his own friend, but Alistair's apprentice to prove his loyalty. They all heard what went on in there.

"Let me pass," he commanded, and they did.

They looked in, and saw Dean still on the table looking thoroughly destroyed and broken.

Castiel found Hannah in the crowd quickly, and without having to be told, she gathered the higher ranking angels to formulate a plan to infiltrate Heaven with what they knew so they could destroy the angel tablet. The other angels would go in with their beloved leader and the Winchesters to take down Metatron.

* * *

Dean had reconnected all of his post-coital nerves and righted himself. He finally opened the door to find everything abuzz. Every individual angel had a task they were furiously working on. Phones rang. Keyboards clicked. Indistinct, severe discussions happened around him.

It all slowed to a gradual halt as each angel took notice of the obviously injured Winchester. None would openly stare, but he could feel every set of eyes on him. Cas wasn't there. "Where's Sam?" He demanded to the crowd. There was an unspoken nomination of who would step forward.

A nonimposong angel slinked forward, then led him wordlessly down a corridor.

Dean unlocked the door to find Sam in an office chair in the center of a darker room, lit by all a bunch of little monitors on a panel. Full-color images played out in real time.

His little brother lifted his head, wearing an impish little grin. "Hey Dean. You, uh, you feeling okay?"

Dean felt his heart drop into his stomach. Oh you've gotta be kidding me. "Don't tell me that's..."

Sam tried, really tried to suppress the laugh at Dean's wan expression. On one of the monitors was the interrogation room, the table still slick with blood. "Yeah... Security footage."

Hindsight is twenty-twenty.


End file.
